In Between Sin and Virtue
by X Killing Loneliness X
Summary: After a millennia of sameness, it was the excitement of change that held Castiel's interest in the strange stubborn soul he saved. The joy of something new, certainly nothing more. Super slow burn with eventual Destiel. THIS STORY IS BEING REWORKED. SUSPENDED FOR NOW
1. Chapter 1

**A/N There are so many other things I should be doing right now, but apparently I'm writing oneshots. Why brain, why. This is basically rant form sorry.**

Castiel had watched all of humanity pass by. He had watched the greatest kings, the lowest peasants, the golden light of invention, and the cruel darkness of war. He had been moved by none of it. He had watched passively as the Grand Canyon was formed, and as the tower of babel fell. Angels watched human activity the way humans watched ants futilely digging into the earth in complex patterns – a fascinating machine.

His garrison had seen action before. He had eons of training and his entire existence fell into the hierarchy of taking orders from an unseen leader. This was the faith of angels – complete unquestioning obedience. So it was without a second thought that he accepted his mission to hell to retrieve the soul of Dean Winchester.

Many angels would go, and it was likely few would return. It was deemed an acceptable loss. It was God's will that this soul be saved from the pit, so any that fell, did so as part of God's plan. Castiel did even hope he was one of the few to return. He accepted whatever fate God handed him – success or failure. If only he'd known the true outcome of this excursion, he might have hoped, or hesitated.

It was travelling through hell that he found himself waking to experience. He had never been to hell before; being so far removed from God's grace was a new feeling. Castiel had long since grown accustomed to most experiences, the life of an angel was one of patience and repetition. So something new was in itself something of interest. It was cold outside of God's light. The warmth of God's love was slowly cooling in heaven like a pie left on a windowsill (why Castiel could not question), but here it was icy and bleak. The fires of hatred raged around them, but their scorch was frigid. It had been millennia since he had felt something _new._

His eyes travelled eagerly over their surroundings, taking in all the new sights, new sounds. He had seen demons before, many times, but not like this. Here their true forms ran free, not crushed within a vessel. The demons guarded the souls on torture racks, like dragons protective of their gold. The angels fought through them without passion. Demons could rarely hurt angels, in hell was one of the only viable chances they had, yet the angels still did not grant them the respect of fear.

They had to move quickly: the soul of the Righteous Man had already been in hell too long. If he was corrupted it would start a chain events Castiel could not see the end of. The chain would also be God's will so it tried to accept the outcome without passion. He always tempered his thoughts with the calm of faith; whatever happened today, it would be God's will. But still, they would do their best to hurry. The paradox of hurrying toward your destiny was not lost on the angel, but he accepted it through faith.

The battle raged on and time was difficult to calculate. Time in heaven and hell and earth all moved differently. The urgency of their quest filled him with unease. He tried the methods of acceptance, to regain his angelic calm, but found it difficult to master. He was too invested. Castiel chastised himself, and focused on God's will, his ultimate guiding principal. Unease or tension was not a good sign in angels, it meant they were not in sync with God's will. But this was the most important mission he had ever been given, and he was the second in command of the garrison. It would reflect poorly on his abilities if they failed.

Finally, they neared the section of hell the Righteous Man was supposed to be. They had already wrongfully searched through two other sections, to find nothing. Castiel begun to see a light through the haze of evil. The light of a pure soul was instantly recognizable to the angel. When observing the earthly plane, the mortal coil obscured the light, but here in hell with no physical barrier, souls shone like beacons. There were plenty of souls in hell mind you, being tortured by demons until they became twisted and poisoned by hate. This soul was different; the light was blinding, the power rolling off the soul in waves. As Castiel moved closer he could see the edges of the soul were beginning to darken with hate. He didn't stop to contemplate the meaning but reached out to touch the naked soul, wholly consumed with his mission.

For a moment, all he do was gasp for breath. It was like gripping the sun. Electricity raced through him, power flooding into him, mixing with his grace. His mind both raced and stopped entirely. This was new. This was the most different thing he had ever experienced. This was not at all like interacting with souls in heaven. It was the different between a power source doing its job and grabbing a live wire. His hand burned, but he didn't let go.

He could see through Dean's eyes how he perceived hell. He could see the torture, the choice to get off the rack and get some revenge. He could see every moment Dean had experienced on earth. From birth to death, he could see this man's life – his struggle, his sorrow, his fleeting joy. Castiel was moved. Castiel was not used to being moved. He was filled with the fire of human emotion, it was a powerful drug and Castiel was overdosing.

He kept a hand on his prize as his wings took them powerfully upwards. He left the remainder of the angels behind without a second thought. Castiel's mind was clouded – between the fire of touching the bare soul and the waves of emotion seeping into him - he could barely fly straight. His confused captive fought him as they moved towards the light of freedom. Castiel didn't take it personally, the soul didn't know what was happening. The poor twisted being probably thought he was on the VIP express to deeper agony. Or possibly the mind-numbing burn of the connection was felt on both sides. Castiel wasn't sure and he had no basis for comparison. Personally saving a soul from hell had never happened before, he was humbled as realized this action would define him in heaven for eternity.

The taint of evil that touched the edges of the soul burned at the proximity to God's grace, at the closeness of Castiel. That's when he realized. Tainted. They had been too late. Things were in motion now. Castiel wasn't high level enough to know exactly where it ended, but the word floated up to him: apocalypse. If anything could prevent that ending, he was holding it right here in his hand – this one soul, this one man. It was his orders to bring this soul back to the mortal plane and help stop seals from being broken. He would be working side by side with a human. It had been ages since angels had even been on earth in a vessel, much less interacted with humans. Castiel was flooded with excitement at the prospect of _new._ His heart raced at the idea of helping shape God's vision, helping this man.

Once free of hell, Castiel took his time rebuilding Dean's corporeal form. Normally his powers would be near empty after the battle and the escape. The tips of his wings were singed black from the fires – maybe permanently. But his grace was overflowing with power, from the soul. He felt more powerful than he ever had before.

The righteous man would need something to move about the earthly plane with if he was to stop the apocalypse. Castiel was meticulous in his detail. The body should be exact. Though he had no problem leaving out damage and defects the body has endured. It served no purpose. The human form was beautiful, as were all of God's creations. The complexity of the machine was something humans so rarely appreciated. From the cells of their skins to the workings of tiny veins to maps of synapses, Castiel appreciated God's design and enjoyed the work of creating the vessel… no, body. Dean's body. As he finished, he saw that his touch had left a mark on the soul, a mark that was shining though on the body he had rebuilt. His hand print.

The sight of it gave him a feeling he couldn't name. He knew every language spoken on earth but could not put a word to the sensations flooding his mind. He decided it was simply a side effect of having touched the nuclear reactor that is the human soul. Nothing more. The handprint could stay; it would fade with time like other scars. The human should feel grateful, blessed even, to have been personally touched by a seraph. Castiel felt the urge to place his hand over the mark, but refrained. He was still incorporeal, and didn't know the result would be. It would quite a shame to burn out the body he had just finished remaking.

He put the completed work back where Dean had left it, and stepped back to watch life return to it. With a few words of Enochian, life flowed into the ground and found the waiting body. The combination of the spell and his angelic presence flattened the surrounding trees. He wondered if his orders would have him continue to watch over this man. He hoped they would. His mind raced, and his whole being felt the ebbing fire. It was just the residual power of the soul he reminded himself. Nothing more. 

It was the excitement of something new. Nothing more.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N Thank you for the favs and follows. Most of the dialogue (and the character of course) don't belong to me. I'll sometimes lift straight from the episodes, sometimes not, as it fits the narrative. Enjoy.**

Castiel watched from above as Dean struggled to get to the surface. He realized perhaps leaving him in a coffin hadn't been the best idea. It was too late now, so he simply observed the human scrabble through the dirt. It reminded him of the early humans fumbling in the dust to create something. The hunter's hands broke through the surface and he slowly pulled himself onto the grass panting from exertion.

Castiel found himself wishing he could offer help of some kind. But Jimmy wasn't ready to give himself over yet, so the angel was stuck just watching. Castiel had been working on Jimmy for the past couple months, slowly allowing the man to hear him. Jimmy was a good candidate for a vessel and Castiel needed to handle the situation carefully. He needed Jimmy to say yes after all – angels weren't selfish like demons, pushing themselves inside of whichever human they wanted. Angels wanted you to want it. Castiel knew it would destroy Jimmy's life as soon as he got the yes he was after – but it was all in God's will and therefore just. Castiel's presence was the most important thing that would ever happen to Jimmy Novak, regardless of what happened to his physical body once Castiel took control.

Back in the moment, Castiel watched Dean finally stand up and look around. The human looked very concerned at the state of the fallen trees around him. He muttered curses in a hoarse voice and began to wander. Castiel followed, observing. Dean wandered almost a mile before finding an abandoned gas station and breaking inside. Castiel watched as Dean grabbed water, washed the grave dirt off his face, and examined his body. For a righteous human, Dean certainly didn't seem to mind breaking human laws. At least, Castiel was pretty sure taking items from another without agreement was theft… maybe there was an exemption clause for dire need? He should check.

Castiel felt proud watching the human inspect his work. He had done a great job in his own estimation. Although, the human didn't look nearly as pleased as Castiel was at the red handprint on his shoulder. The angel decided now was as good a time as any to make introductions as he watched the man steal from the small store. He was alone and clearly had questions, questions Castiel was happy to answer.

But as he spoke the man flinched. Electronics around him began misfiring, and he watched Dean grab salt as if Castiel was some common demon. Mildly irritated, Castiel tried harder to reach Dean, resulting in the glass shattering all around them. Ok. This was going to be harder than he thought. He needed practice using his voice on the earthly plane. Jimmy had been able to understand – why couldn't Dean? Castiel had simply assumed that the soul he had been so close to just moments ago would be able to understand him.

Unable to do anything but watch, Castiel let Dean leave. The man was clearly upset now and Castiel's instinct was to reach out. Castiel left to return to Jimmy, the man would need to be ready sooner rather than later. Castiel would be the first angel to take a vessel in centuries, so he needed to go smoothly. This mission would mean big things in the hierarchy of heaven.

After checking in on Jimmy Novak, reassured that at least one man could still understand him, Castiel returned to Dean. The man had traveled first to the home of Bobby Singer and then on to a hotel where his brother Sam was staying. Castiel had no trouble finding him – he could already sense Dean anywhere. Castiel knew Sam Winchester was on a dark path cavorting with demons. He was not pleased to have Sam so near to Dean, knowing the danger the man with demon blood posed. Castiel guessed that Dean would be ordered to kill Sam at some point. He did not know for sure, the orders were not given that far in advance, but things seemed to be moving that direction with the troubled young man.

Castiel looked in on Dean just as they left the hotel. The man stared into the bathroom mirror with far away eyes. Peering into his thoughts, Castiel could see glimpses of hell. He was surprised not to see an impression of himself, but the man seemed preoccupied with the horrors of hell. Castiel was sure he would be receiving the grateful thanks when he made himself known, he could wait. He didn't dare attempt to speak to Dean again, not with the other humans around. He knew what would happen if unworthy humans came into contact with angelic purity, and it wasn't good for them. Castiel returned to heaven to seek revelation, and new orders.

* * *

"I invoke, conjure, and command you to appear unto me before this circle"

Castiel felt the pull of the words while in heaven. He had finally been given permission to make contact with Dean Winchester.

"I invoke, conjure, and command you to appear unto me before this circle"

This is not how he wanted to do it though. This would not end well for the humans in the room. He tried to tell Dean to stop this nonsense before someone got hurt, but all that happened was the television in the room turned on and hummed.

"I invoke, conjure, and command you to appear unto me before this circle"

He tried instead to speak to the small human psychic. "I am Castiel. You need to turn back now."

"Castiel?"

"Upon pain of death, stop this Pamela."

"No. Sorry, Castiel, I don't scare easy."

The angel was frustrated. Killing this woman was not a good start to getting Dean to trust him. And he needed Dean to trust him. He heard Dean speak his name, confusion and fear clouding his voice. This was not the way it should happen.

"I conjure and command you- show me your face"

Castiel tried to push her out, but her physical connection to Dean was granting her more strength than she would normally have access to. Castiel began to regret leaving the handprint, it had been ego to leave an angelic mark on his work.

"Show me your face now"

It was his only recourse. If she kept going she might pull his true form down onto the earthly plane and everyone in the room would be dead, including Dean. Even a special case like Dean Winchester could not withstand the true visage of an angel. Pamela screamed as she saw him. Castiel doubted she could even comprehend what she saw before the light overwhelmed her and her eyes began to burn. Castiel's true form was massive, the size of a skyscraper, with multiple faces and wings, aspects and dimensions unknowable to humans.

The other humans in the room were filled with fear. Dean included. And while Castiel recognized that fear of God was the correct response he had hoped the man would instinctively understand the angel's presence. Dean seemed to assume he was evil, an accusation that bristled more than a little. He resisted the urge to make his presence known, he had clearly already done enough damage – Pamela was alive but blinded.

Castiel tried again that evening to correct Dean's impression. He was more irritated that he realized at Dean's assumption that his rescuer was evil. Couldn't the man tell the difference between heaven and hell? He waited until the Sam left the hotel – off to meet with that hellspawn surely – before reaching out.

Earlier that day Castiel had released his frustrations on the demons that threatened his charge. He did not rescue a soul from the pit only to have demons lay their hands on it. He gave the demons a warning buzz that they should leave the diner, leave this town, leave the earth before they felt the wrath of God. They laughed. Of course they laughed. Castiel was almost glad they did. After his failure with Dean and Pamela, he was ready for a little success. His mere presence burned the demons from the inside. He left one alive to serve as a warning to any others that might come after Dean Winchester.

Castiel breathed in the feel of righteous wrath that came from smiting evil in the name God. Filled with power and success he found Dean in his mind. Surely, if he could tell the human that he had taken care of the demon problem, he could win his trust. They could begin their working relationship. After all, there was so much work to be done.

Dean was asleep when he arrived, but the buzz of electronics misfiring woke him. Castiel could see the man reacting to his presence and pushed further. Dean cried out and covered his ears. Frustrated Castiel tried every conceivable frequency human ears could comprehend, but nothing worked. The glass of windows and mirrors cracked and showered down on Dean, and Castiel began to pull back. Injuring Dean was not going to help. No matter how much Castiel wanted to make contact, this was clearly not the way.

He had been so sure that he would be able to understand. The man was clearly special. Out of options, Castiel knew it was time to cash in on Jimmy.

* * *

Jimmy Novak had not had a smooth transition into angelic communication either. Castiel remembered the first time he reached out the Jimmy, after watching him for months, the man began to seize up at the overwhelming sensation of Castiel's voice.

They had taken baby steps from there.

Giving tiny bits of information over time, little tests of faith to ease the man into the idea that he was special. And he was special, a true vessel like Jimmy was one in a billion, or six billion to be exact. It ran in Jimmy's bloodline, but currently living – Castiel preferred the adult man to the young girl. She was so small, it seemed inconvenient.

He convinced Jimmy that God would protect his body, and that God would protect his family. The latter was more of a hope that a guarantee but that was of little consequence. The work was more important than a few humans on the sidelines.

"Please Castiel, just talk to me. What do you want from me?"

"I need you to give yourself over to me Jimmy Novak. There is much work to be done on earth and you can help. You will be my earthly vessel, and together we perform God's will. This is the highest honor, you were chosen for this Jimmy Novak." Castiel intoned with utter gravitas, betraying none of the nervousness he felt. God had chosen him as well, they both had a lot to live up to in this moment. He relied on his training more than anything to keep his angelic calm. _This is God's plan, I am with the Lord our Father and will carry out his works._ Castiel repeated the mantra over and over as he prepared to enter his vessel.

"Then…yes"

Entering the earthly plane into vessel was like turning a three dimensional object into a two dimensional object, but with far more dimensions. It was wearing jeans five sizes too small that covered your entire body. His wings were invisible, not technically present, but he could feel them just outside of this dimension. It sort of pinched. Castiel flexed his hand. His hand. He had form! This was different. This was _new_. This was nothing but new. He was about to fly off to experience the world through new eyes when he heard a sound.

"Daddy?"

He turned and regarded Claire Novak. The miniature human wanted something from him. He tilted his head in an attempt to process. She wanted Jimmy. But Jimmy no longer steering this ship.

"I am not your father" Castiel intoned, using his voice for first time. It came out deep and graveled – unintentional but not unwelcome. Castiel found he liked the sound, the rumble reminiscent of the missing frequencies. He saw emotions play across the child's face, hurt mostly likely, but he didn't have the luxury of empathy. It was a fleeting emotion on one small human, what did that matter in the scheme of God? He flew off, planning his next encounter with Dean.

* * *

As it turned out, Dean was looking for him too. That cheered him a little. On the other hand, Dean still thought Castiel was a demon and was trying to summon him. As he appeared outside the barn, still getting used to driving this human suit, his grace let off a gale force wind, shaking the barn roof and the surrounding trees. His feet touched down onto the dirt and Castiel took a moment.

What was this feeling…hesitation? It must be a residual effect of the human body he inhabited. Angels should not hesitate. But he was excited to finally meet Dean eye to eye, to perceive him as humans did, and to be perceived.

He pushed the door open as he stepped forward. The door was bolted shut, but it was just a flimsy bar of wood holding it closed. He pushed through it, and the lights above him began to burst. _Pull the energy in_ he tried to calm himself. It was just nerves at the enormity of this moment. That was all. He was making a hell of an entranced he mused as the frightened men fired guns at him. He tried to show them he came in peace, walking smoothly forward, not bothering to respond to the gunfire. It seemed to have the opposite effect – the men were more spooked.

Castiels eyes were trained on Dean, taking in his human form with human eyes. He tried to convey their bond with just a look but the human was too lost in fear to notice. Dean dropped the gun and picked up his demon-killing knife. Castiel recognized it from his glimpses into Dean's memories during their flight out of hell.

"Who are you?"

Castiel wanted to respond, _how do you not know me?_ But held back. Now was not the moment for feeling – what was he saying? It was never the moment for feeling.

"I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition." Castiel stated. He continued to lock eyes with Dean, trying to convey the importance of this. Instead he got a sarcastic reply and a knife to the chest.

Well. He was a hunter. Castiel should have expected Dean would choose fight over flight. The smallest hint of a smile played on his lips as he gripped the blade and pulled it from his chest, dropping it unceremoniously on the ground. If Dean needed a show of power to believe, Castiel could certainly deliver. As the angel's gaze bore into Dean, willing him to understand, Bobby attacked. The angel turned, grabbing the short sword and pressing two fingers to the older man's head. Bobby didn't need to be a part of this conversation. Castiel wanted this moment to be between himself and Dean alone.

"Your friend is alive." Castiel answered before Dean could ask. He looked through the hunter's notes, giving Dean a moment to check his friend. The two men had clearly tried every symbol they knew, too bad they didn't know any Enochian.

It wasn't until Dean asked "What are you?" That Castiel looked up.

"I am an angel of the Lord." It was at this moment he expected Dean to give thanks. He waited for the grateful praise, the worship.

"Get the hell out of here. There's no such thing." Humans could indeed be frustrating. How could one deny the existence of angels when one was standing right in front of him? Of course, this human was flawed, as all mortal creatures. He would get no reverence from Dean, he saw that now. Castiel remembered that this human had given in to hell's temptation. He didn't seem to have much regard for God at all.

"This is your problem Dean, you have no faith." The angel intoned, meaning to convey his disappointment in this moment and in the hell escapade. It was God's will however, and as he looked into the frightened green eyes in front of him, he found he harbored no ill will towards Dean Winchester. He simply couldn't muster it. Instead he went for a show of power to further convince the doubting human that his words were true. For just a moment he let his wings press into the barrier of dimensions. They appeared as a shadow, the barrier's disturbance created a crack of thunder and lightening. His wings were smaller than he imagined in this form, their real magnificence incalculable in this existence. Again, Castiel wished Dean would simply understand that Castiel was here to help. He wanted it, more than he realized.

"Some angel you are. You burned out that poor woman's eyes."

Ok. No reverence then. Castiel looked down in a grimace of guilt. He really hadn't wanted that to happen. He found himself explaining to Dean.

"That was you talking? Buddy next time lower the volume." Castiel looked down again. How was this human making him feel as though he erred? It must be the vessel.

"That was my mistake." Castiel found himself saying, with real regret in his voice. He was going to need to get a better grip on the residual emotions of this human vessel before meeting Dean again. This conversation was going nothing like he planned, he found himself justifying the use of his vessel. Of course Dean was wary of possession, he only had demonic possession to compare to.

"Look man, I'm not buying what you're selling, so who are you, really?"

Castiel knit his brow in confusion. "I told you" Not five minutes ago he had confirmed his name. He hadn't forgotten. Castiel titled his head, did this man still not believe?

"Why would an angel rescue me from Hell?" Castiel looked closely at the man in front of him, seeing fear and stubbornness.

"Good things do happen, Dean." He assured him. _I am the best thing that's ever happened to you_ Castiel tried to convey. _There is no reason to fear me_. But the thoughts went to no one, Dean couldn't hear him that way.

"Not in my experience."

Castiel stepped closer, bring them no more than foot apart. "What's the matter?" His eyes were locked on Dean's wide green ones. Reading the play of emotions there, Castiel began to understand. Dean did remember hell. The angel could see mountains of guilt and self-loathing and his face softened with empathy.

"You don't think you deserved to be saved." It wasn't a question. But it was the key to getting Dean to open up. He could see the man lower his guard a moment. It was at this moment Castiel knew his world had forever changed. He wanted nothing more than to convince this man that he was destined for great things. He even had the fleeting urge to reach out and touch his face and assure him. He refrained, but noted the desire.

If God's plan was for Castiel to spend the apocalypse by Dean Winchester's side, than he accepted his mission. The weird feelings would have to go. It was the greatness of the moment, the importance of the task ahead that made his heart race. Nothing more.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N Thanks for the favs and follows! It helps to know someone's reading. This started out as a oneshot but a longterm plot has presented itself - so any encouragement to keep writing is much appreciated.**

Chapter 3

"I will be in touch Dean" Castiel said in closing. The Hunter stared at him, mouth open in disbelief. Castiel telling him he had been chosen by God was as unbelievable as Sam telling him that a singing fish had spouted from his butt. The man could do nothing but gape ungracefully.

"Why?" he bit out, wanting to say so much more. He wanted to question everything. There couldn't really be a God. Dean had built so much of his personal belief system around the fact that bad shit happened to everyone and all you could do was take it. How. How could there be a God in this fucked up world. And why the ever-loving fuck would an angel help _him?_ That was really the part that pushed Dean past the threshold into full-on disbelief. He had broken every commandment, he had failed at every turn, and thumbed his nose at God on the way. There was absolutely no way angels were real and gave a shit about him.

But no matter how many times he blinked to dispel the fever dream, the blue eyed man continued to exist. He had to be a demon of some kind. This was just the latest inventive lie they'd come up with the screw with him. Maybe he'd never gotten out of hell at all and this was some twisted fantasy of Alastair's – dangle the idea of redemption in front of Dean only to snatch it away.

The couldn't- be-an-angel didn't seem like he was going to answer Dean's question. Dean felt the intent gaze of this creature and realized just how vulnerable he was at this moment. He had no idea how to harm, much less kill this thing. It didn't seem to want to hurt him now, but Dean had been in the game long enough to know that could change in an instant.

A second later, with the sound of wings, the trench-coated man disappeared before his eyes. Dean didn't have time to recover his senses before Bobby stirred on the ground nearby.

"Well that went well" Bobby grumbled, pulling himself up. "We're not dead. Did you kill it Dean?"

"No" Dean replied without looking over. His eyes were still trained on the spot Castiel had disappeared from, as it if held some clue.

"Did you find out what the hell it is?"

The word angel was too ridiculous; Dean couldn't even say it. Bobby would laugh him out of the room, he was sure of it. "No" He and Sam would figure it out. It definitely wasn't an angel. Definitely.

* * *

Dean had a hard time focusing on the book in front of him. After arguing about the existence of angels with Sam and Bobby for what felt like hours they had decided to bone up on the lore. That task proved a bit more in depth than Dean really preferred – he was generally happy to let Sam or Bobby take care of the book learning and just point him in the direction of something to kill.

The memory of the way-too-intense blue-eyed man sent a chill down his spine. Not the sexy kind, but the fear for your life like you'll be squashed like a bug kind of chill. They had dealt with big deal supernatural beings before, but not like this. If angels really were walking the earth – it had to be something new. Otherwise there would be notes from hunters; at least one hunter would have encountered one in the past. That meant something had changed.

Dean felt guilt rolling in his stomach. The coincidence was too much. He had been resurrected. His brother was some kind of demon-fueled psychic who had been chosen to open the devil's gate. There was far too chosenness going on for Dean's taste. Now angels. At least the idea of the world throwing bigger and bigger punches their way was a world he understood.

Bobby's voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Damn it Olivia"

Bobby snapped his phone closed and slammed it down on the table. Olivia Lowry was another hunter they knew close by. She had helped out on a few cases over the years and Dean wasn't surprised Bobby was calling in every favor in the books on this angel thing.

"We're gonna swing by Dean, that's too many unanswered phone calls for my liking."

Dean nodded and stood up, stiff from hunching over books for hours. Bobby tended to worry sure, but if the word angels didn't peak your interest as a hunter, you were probably dead. Dean moved around the room grabbing the essentials for a quick trip. It wasn't a hunt necessarily, but every time they went out Dean had the basics on hand, it was better to be ready to find something when you got there.

Sam had gone out for snacks, and pie, and was due back any moment. Dean didn't like the guy going off on his own, but since he had been gone for four months Dean didn't have a leg to stand on saying Sam couldn't handle himself.

* * *

"You think you're some kind of hero" the ghost taunted.

Dean had a hard time meeting her gaze. The pretty blond girl that had been Meg Masters had a point. They hadn't considered the damage they were doing to the girl attached to the demon. Meg the demon had threatened Sam, threatened their father, and Dean went in guns blazing. They had beat her, tied her up, and ultimately thrown her from a window. They broke the girl into pieces to get at the demon inside and Dean had felt very little regret. It was the nature of the job. Sometimes innocent people got caught in the crossfire.

At least, that's what he told himself at night when sleep evaded him. Not everyone could be saved. It was the demise of many hunters, blaming yourself for the ones you couldn't save. The lost souls weighed on you until you drowned in guilt.

"No, I don't" Dean answered honestly. It was an illusion that he'd been broken of many times. The most recent and most permanent was in hell. He'd proved to himself, to Alastair, and apparently to God that he was no hero. That's the reason he didn't deserve to be saved. The stupid angel had been right in his accusation. Dean _knew_ he didn't deserve God's attention. He deserved to rot in the pit. He was only going to fail everyone again.

The ghost of Meg kicked him viciously. It yelled at him for all the things she lost. Dead dreams, dead siblings, dead girls – it was a result Dean was all to familiar with at this point. Dean accepted her hatred, crawling away. The brand on her hand pulled him from his guilt trip back into the job.

"You think you're special Dean? That you're life is worth more than mine? God didn't choose you Dean. Angels aren't here to help you." Dean replied with a bullet. He shot the iron chandelier above them and brought it crashing down, dispelling the angry apparition. He didn't care to contemplate the words. Dean pushed it away and pulled himself upright.

* * *

After the witnesses had been put to rest, it was time for the Winchesters to rest. But Dean found sleep less comforting than usual.

"Why do you deserve another chance Dean?"

The words from earlier played on a loop in his dream. Almost having your heart ripped from your chest could do that. He shifted uneasily on Bobby's floor in his sleep. _You don't think you deserve to be saved_. The matter of fact way the angel had said it was what pissed Dean off. The angel hadn't phrased it as a question. His blue eyes had been so intense that Dean felt uncomfortable even just remembering.

Then, as if the thought alone summoned the angel, Dean heard a flutter of wings.

He opened his eyes in the dark room and craned his neck around looking for the source of the sound. He found himself unsurprised to see Castiel standing in the kitchen waiting for him. Dean glanced at Sam, deeply asleep on the couch and decided not to wake him. The angel seemed unhurried as Dean quietly rose and padded in socked feet toward the silent figure.

"Excellent job with the witnesses."

"You were hip to all this?" Dean's brow knit first in confusion, then in anger.

"I was, uh, made aware." The angel looked away in hesitation and it was clear Dean was not being told something. This only fueled his anger.

"Well, thanks a lot for the angelic assistance. You know, I almost got my heart ripped out of my chest." Dean's lip curled with a sneer on the word angelic. If the guy had such good intentions, why they hell let them get almost killed.

"But you didn't" Castiel replied with simply.

Dean couldn't take it. He laid into the guy. Why hadn't he helped here? Why hadn't they helped ever? Why the hell had God let all the bad shit happen to his family, his loved ones? There was no way God was a loving father. No father would let his children suffer like people had suffered in front of Dean. He could handle a crapsack world where there was no hope, but a world where someone _could_ have prevented the pain and chose not to? It was too much for Dean to accept.

Dean angry questions rose to a crescendo. "If there's a God, what the hell is he waiting for, huh? Genocide? Monsters roaming the earth? The freaking apocalypse? At what point does he lift a damn finger and help the poor bastards that are stuck down here?"

"The lord works…"

Dean couldn't let Castiel finish that thought. "If you say 'mysterious ways,' so help me, I will kick your ass." Dean hadn't thought through threatening an angel. He stopped short and waited. But Castiel simply raised his hands in frustration with the man in front of him. Dean could see a tiny smile play on the edge of his lips. The angel didn't defend God's plan or attempt to explain further. Instead he solidified his cool demeanor and looked at Dean like a frustrating puzzle.

When the angel spoke again, Dean got the distinct feeling he was being talked down to. Castiel walked him through the seals and Lillith and the possibility of Lucifer's rising. Castiel led him slowly through the thought process like you would explain to a particularly stupid child why sticking a fork in an electrical socket was a bad idea. Dean rankled at the indignity of it and turned the blame back toward the angels.

"Well... bang-up job so far. Stellar work with the witnesses. That's nice" Dean could see the school-teacher patience wearing thin on Castiel. The careful façade began to crack as the angle stepped closer and closer to Dean. They were only inches apart by the time he finished taking Dean to task for his arrogance.

"You think the armies of Heaven should just follow you around? There's a bigger picture here. You should show me some respect." Dean's breath hitched. The angel's face was so close that Dean could feel the sheer power of the being inside rolling off him in waves. It gave Dean that spine tingly feeling from before, like he was an annoying fly allowed to continue buzzing out of sheer mercy. "I dragged you out of Hell. I can throw you back in." Dean pulled his eyes from the floor to meet Castiel's powerful gaze. He felt trapped in it, like he was slowing drowning.

He knew two things at once. One - Castiel absolutely had the power to cast Dean into the pit without a second thought; and two – the greater punishment was leaving him here. Everything suddenly clicked for Dean. It wasn't that he deserved to be saved. It was that he didn't deserve to sit out the apocalypse. God had brought him back to saddle him a shit job. That was a world Dean could comprehend. Dying wasn't going to get you out of your responsibilities: he had more work to do, more shit to go through, more that could be taken from him, and the universe wasn't gonna let a little thing like death stop that train.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N. Thank you Tig4498 for my first review on this fic! Sorry for the long wait.  
This is the first chap that gets slightly canon divergent, very slight, as in words. That'll probably start happening more and more, don't be alarmed. Thanks for reading!**

Chapter 4

Castiel regretted threatening Dean, a little. The man was just so frustrating Castiel had momentarily forgotten his goal was to gain the hunters trust. It was far more familiar territory to simply put the fear of God into his opponent and dominate his way through his mission. Castiel was built to be a warrior, not a catechism teacher.

He sat on an outcropping of rock just of the coast of Maine, listening to the waves crashing rhythmically around him. He almost missed the centuries past when his only job was to passively watch. Castiel enjoyed the peace of nature, and could appreciate the order inside the chaos of a bustling city, but trying to understand the mind of a human was nearly impossible. They were irrational, impulsive creatures, fully willing to overlook simple logic because it didn't _feel_ right. As if feelings were something more than misplaced chemical firings.

Angels only felt duty to heaven, normally. They did not feel fear, or doubt, or sorrow. They also did not feel joy, or love. Some reactions came through – useful ones – like righteous anger. Not the kind of out-of-control fire that humans experienced, but the manifestation of the wrath of God. Yet even with the short time he had spent watching Dean Winchester, Castiel was already experiencing a feeling he wasn't quite used to. Frustration.

Castiel had been an angel since the dawn of humanity, a certain amount of frustration happened on occasion when one failed a mission. It was the shame of potential failure that drove one to work even harder, but this was different. Castiel had felt the urge to grab Dean Winchester's shoulders and shake him until he made sense. This desire made no sense. So Castiel continued to sit on the rock, the thick sea air and occasional spray making his hair damp. Nature was a good place to think.

He had barely convinced the man that angels were real, despite being an angel and standing directly in front of him. How could he convince this stubborn mortal that he was, in fact, needed by heaven. Perhaps it was part of the human condition to be blind to how you fit into the bigger picture. God's great innovation – free will – made it difficult for humans to accept fate's handiwork. Maybe, Castiel thought, if he could show Dean how he fit into the picture, Dean would accept his role more easily.

Castiel would have to call in a few favors in heaven to expend so much energy only to teach a lesson, but considering all that Dean had to do, it might be their best option.

* * *

Castiel sat on Dean's bed in the dark hotel room watching him sleep. The hunter shifted fretfully in his sleep, and angel could see images of hell flashing through Dean's mind. He resisted the urge to comfort the sleeping man, knowing he would wake momentarily.

Upper management in Heaven had gone along with Castiel's idea, but not for the reason he had presented. They were more concerned with the younger Winchester at the moment. Heaven watched as Sam when further and further down a dark path with the demon named Ruby. It was worrisome, but Castiel was under strict orders not to tell Dean about the demon blood. He would find out on his own soon enough.

The images in Dean's mind shifted, and Castiel couldn't tell if the man was remembering being tortured in hell, or doing the torturing. Dean's newfound profession in hell was just as much Castiel's failure as Dean's. The reminder of it burned at him. If the angels had gotten there sooner, if Castiel had pulled the soul out faster they wouldn't be in the position now. The seraph felt yet another new emotion, guilt. If Castiel hadn't failed Dean in hell, he wouldn't be here now readying the man to be a soldier for heaven.

When Dean finally stirred awake Castiel let his earlier frustration get the better of him. He did an incredibly human thing: he asked a question he already knew the answer to, just to make Dean squirm. "And what were you dreaming about?" he taunted. Dean already looked uncomfortable finding an angel on his bed, and Castiel was surprised to see the hunters bright green eyes could go even wider in momentary fear. Dean gaped at him for a moment, but collected himself and taunted back.

"You get your freak on by watching other people sleep? What do you want" The angel watched as Dean jerked the covers off and sat up fully clothed. Castiel had thought that humans generally had special outfits for sleeping. Maybe Dean had lost his, or had designated this particular pair of jeans for sleeping. Castiel wondered but didn't ask, Dean didn't seem to be in the mood for that type of question. Instead he prepared his lesson.

"Listen to me. You have to stop it."

"Stop what?" Dean replied, obviously confused. He looked around the dark motel room for the thing he was supposed to stop.

Castiel pressed two fingers to Dean's forehead and released the energy he had stored. Time travel was a difficult trick to pull off, even for angels. It was only because he had direct permission from heaven that he could make it look easy. Although if he was to be completely honest, he didn't mind the show of power.

He followed Dean through time, invisible, to make sure the man didn't start changing the course of history too wildly. He left the human asleep on a bench, he seemed less likely to suddenly yell or make a scene if he was asleep. Castiel stayed invisible and waited for things time to warp around Dean's presence.

The stream of time was such a fascinating process. Small changes could be overcome, the way water will flow out of it's way around a stone to join the main flow a short way down the river. A waiter serving an extra cup of coffee wouldn't change the course of his future too much. Even if it made him five minutes late, most of the time something else would speed him along to where he needed to be. Humans were oblivious to the millions of tiny moments in their lives that kept things in order – precious seconds spent looking for keys that were in your pocket, taking an extra minute to fix a misbehaving hair, or the moments lost in daydreams that kept you from making the green light.

Dean was woken by a police officer as Castiel mused on the workings of space-time. The hidden angel watched as the hunter tried to get his bearings. He looked around, checked his phone, and went into the diner across the street. Perfect. Castiel waited for Dean to meet his father. This would be delicate, but it was best done organically. He sat invisibly next to Dean as the man slowly realized he had been moved through time as well as space. The world-weary hunter seemed to accept this truth easier than most. The angel hovered near Dean just in case he needed to stop time when the two Winchesters met. Small talk was fine, but Castiel needed him to not make a scene right now – too many other people around. But Castiel was in luck, young John Winchester left without incident and Dean followed soon after.

But of course, Dean started to stalk his unwitting father. Spooking young John would not set this adventure off the Castiel wanted it to go, so he appeared in front of Dean, stopping the hunter on the sidewalk.

"What is this" Dean most accused that asked. He was definitely shaken. Good.

Castiel kept his face carefully still, resisting the urge to smile smugly. "What does it look like?"

"Is it real?"

"Very."

"Okay, so what? Angels got their hands on some DeLoreans? How did I get here?" Castiel didn't know what a DeLorean was, a mineral of some kind? He ignored it and answered the question he understood.

"Time is fluid, Dean. It's not easy, but we can bend it on occasion." It was a lot more complicated than that, but the angel assumed Dean was not educated in advanced metaphysics. Castiel was enjoying this moment, though he would have to walk a careful line to avoid cruelty but still teach the lesson.

"Well bend it back or tell me what the hell I'm doing here!"

"I told you, you have to stop it." Castiel said, intentionally vague.

"Stop what? Huh? What, is there something nasty after my Dad?" A car horn and a screech of tires caught Dean's attention momentarily and Castiel chose the distraction to disappear. Dean was a hunter and he had been given a job, the angel was fairly sure the right pieces were in motion but he'd still stick around to watch.

* * *

Castiel did what angels do, he watched. He watched as Dean spoke to his father, and met his mother. The Winchester boys knew so little about their lineage, which was a shame. He watched as Dean went to Mary Campbell's house and met Samuel and Deanna. It must be moving to meet your missing family, Castiel thought of his own absent father. The loss was shared by all of creation, but angels, having been so close to God, felt the loss more keenly.

Castiel almost intervened when Dean tried to warn his mother of her future death. But things were falling into place now based on Dean's interactions that would render it moot. Time flowed around the stone and it would flow around Dean. This would end as it was meant to, no matter what Dean wanted, which was exactly what they were hear to learn.

Dean drove away from the Campbell home in his stolen car, preoccupied with memories of his mother's death. Castiel didn't have to look into his mind to see the old scars opening up and grief pouring out. He let himself be visible in the passenger seat. It was an odd reflex, wanting to help the hunter; Castiel found he wasn't sure how, so he just sat silently. Dean tried to justify his action.

"I had to try man, she didn't deserve to die like that."

"Very few people deserve their death, Dean."

"Don't give me that crap, you brought me back here for a reason, is this it? To break the family curse? To save her?" Dean's voice began to sound desperate.

"If you do, you and Sam and your father will never become hunters." Castiel replied evenly.

"Is that a promise?"

"And all those people you saved…"

"Stop it." Dean interrupted. "Don't give me the guilt trip. They're my parents, its Sam's future. Someone else can save the rest. Please, I have to."

Castiel wasn't sure what to say. Dean was staring at him, his eyes full of unspoken emotion. The angel nodded his head and turned to look out at the road. He heard Dean release a shaky breath, seemingly OK with the silence. They both looked at the dimly lit road for a few minutes. Dean seemed to be focused on composing himself, and Castiel resisted the urge to look at him. He didn't expect the hunter to be so emotionally vulnerable and was fascinated by the new facet he was seeing.

This lesson was going exactly as planned, a little too well. The one part Castiel didn't plan for was feeling guilty putting Dean through the emotional torment. He just wanted the human to accept his role, to understand that this was unavoidable, destined. Upper management had agreed because they wanted to motivate Dean to stop Sam's escapades with Ruby. Castiel had argued that Dean was too mistrustful of heaven to accept his brother as a danger without proof. Family was so important to them, who better to impart the information needed. If Castiel could also use the trip through time to convince Dean to accept his role as heaven's warrior, even better. The angels hadn't been considered Dean's feelings or emotional well-being at all. So why did it bother him so much to see the man distressed?


End file.
